


Late Nights and Bright Lights

by Jasmino924



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-15
Updated: 2012-06-19
Packaged: 2017-11-07 18:49:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/434245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jasmino924/pseuds/Jasmino924
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New York raised Rachel and Lima native Quinn have never met. Now they're older and living their dreams out in the big, bad world. But amidst the hustle and bustle of the city and the drama that confuses their lives, will the two girls ever meet?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New York, New Home

**Author's Note:**

> AU in which Rachel wasn't raised in Lima, and Hiram and Leroy brought her up in New York. Everything that you know happened on the show happened - minus Finchel.
> 
> (Pivotal scenes referred to in the story that related to Rachel on the show instead took place with Kurt being the focus).
> 
> Rated M for possible scenes in future chapters.

3 months later and still the bland taste of ramen noodles and instant soup cups perforated every inch of Quinn Fabray's senses. It certainly was no Breadstix meal deal, nor was it premium cut bacon but it was sustenance, something that the recent Yale graduate lacked...in both her diet and her life in general.

Since escaping the harsh confines of the Lima, Ohio hellhole, Quinn had made somewhat of a name for herself during her 4 years at Yale. Using the knowledge learnt on that fatefully blurry booze-fuelled evening in Kurt's basement, she'd bested every sorority girl simply by understanding the different types of drunken crazy that the Yale socialites fit into. Wielding the things that her 18+ years of hard times and traumatising experiences had taught her, she diminished every cocksure jock and meathead with a plethora of snide comments (which she thanked Santana for) and her devilish good looks (something that she thanked God for regularly in her daily prayers). As for the professors, she won them all over with her brainpower.

Lima broke her yet somehow she came back stronger than ever, a Yale graduate with a sociology degree under the belt that was keeping her patterned baby blue (though a little stained) dress neatly cinched to her waist, in her mind, she could be and do anything she wanted, despite the fact that it was a degree that was yet proving about as useful as a Menorah in a bible studies meeting - something Puck had learnt early on in their short-lived relationship. 

Nonetheless, Quinn had felt as if she could take on the world! Bound for the high profile networking and corrupt corporate entities that she could make a living off in New York, she'd departed from New Haven and had soon managed to make a 'lucrative' wage...as a dishwasher in a Brooklyn diner. She'd soon been out of a job when she'd been caught reading Tolstoy during her shift for approximately the umpteenth time - and 3 weeks after that and she'd found herself homeless. It was now, having couch-surfed so much that every inch of her cheerleading worn spine ached with desperation - desperation for her to do something with her life - that the ever determined Quinn Fabray found herself in line for food stamps.

'So', Quinn thought to herself, 'this is what being a Lima loser feels like'.


	2. New York, New York, Big City of Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the two girls meet amongst the mayhem of the city, but under what circumstances?

"2 bags of chips, one packet of bacon." - Quinn murmured to herself, now in the thick of New York's busiest location.

"No, wait, scratch that, **THREE** packets of bacon and- HEY!".

'Drenched!' her thoughts yelled furiously, 'I'm absolutely drenched!'.

The questionable contents of a stagnant rainwater puddle were now calling her Gatsby-eque frock home. Originally striped with several shades of violet, a passing yellow taxi had careered alongside the curb and into that revolting puddle of water, leaving Quinn Fabray's dress clumped with brown droplets of the liquid in all of the most uncomfortable places.

"JERK!", she proclaimed, as if the gospel, in the vehicle's direction - back in Lima, Quinn's hardships had simply made her bitter, but now, thanks to what little company she'd spent in the no-less-than-vulgar residents of inner city New York, this evolved into sour and unrelenting. Every well fed yuppie and privileged taxi-cab hailer was the enemy and should they get in her way, they'd soon know about it.

Crinkling her slightly flushed nose, now tinged pink in anger, Quinn could almost taste the unsavoury flavour of rubber as the very smell of it journeyed through her sinuses. The very taxi cab causing her distress had now screeched to a halt, and seemed to be reversing, back-tracing the few feet it had taken for Quinn's dress to test its absorbency skills.

A short woman, barely a few inches over five foot was pacing her way towards the cab, either in a hurry or in a blaze of fury - no doubt late for some sort of high powered business meeting if the sheerness of her fringe and sleek leather briefcase that was almost as big as her were to be believed.

Suddenly, Quinn was being...beckoned? A slender finger reached into the air, gesturing ever so slightly for her to go over. An unsure expression now firmly embedding itself on her face, she inquisitively paced towards the brunette lady, wondering how her day could possibly get any worse.

Watching her, Quinn noticed that she now appeared to be in a confrontational with the driver 'probably berating him over prices or something, damn New Yorkers...', her brain politely suggested, but to her surprise, the fold in her brow was soon dissolved as the chocolate fringed face explained sweetly, "The driver has something he'd like to say to you".

As if becoming slightly agitated by the cool barrel of a gun to his cranium, he began to speak.

"Yes, sorry ma'am, apologies for the splash there", the driver hurriedly declared, a thick Bronx accent ensconcing his words.

Turning his head to the woman who stood before Quinn, both he and the Yale graduate watched as she nodded her head just once, seemingly giving her approval for the man to be on his way. The yellow cab barreled off down the street.

"Where are you headed?", the girl asked, before Quinn had a chance to thank her.

She didn't actually know, she'd hoped to have spent her afternoon searching the streets for job opportunities - aimless and hopeful, not at all like the usually determined Quinn Fabray of Yale - this city really was changing her.

 "I was just on my way back home from filing for food stamps", she admitted. Her cheeks flashed crimson for a moment, embarrassment briefly taking over, but she knew that the sooner she accepted her life of benefits, the better.

"Food stamps?", the helpful stranger enquired, "Woulda thought a pretty thing like you with legs like those would be some high profile dancer type!", the woman exclaimed, the compliment making the pigment in Quinn's cheek flare up once again...for different reasons entirely.

It was true, she'd taken dance lessons for years, the gem in the McKinley High Showchoir crown, "Quinn Fabray, legs for days", was what the leery jocks jeered and cat-called at her when she walked by, but did the immaturity of a high-school's extra-curriculum activity count?

"Are you? A dancer, I mean?", she pressed.

"Uh...no, well, yes, I was in showchoir for a few years back in high school", she finally answered.

"Ah, good, we could use a girl like you", the woman replied, questioning face now softening into a wide, almost beaming smile, as if satisfied by her answer.

"A girl like me?", what she was going on about, Quinn had no idea, perhaps she was involved in a hidden camera prank for television, she heard these things happened in New York. Or maybe the woman was crazy, Quinn thought, entirely possible judging by the glints that had settled into her eyes, per Quinn's answer.

"Yes. I don't have time explain right now." she said, soothing Quinn's concerns slightly before reaching into her patent leather case for something.

"Here, take this", she continued, now handing the blonde an engraved business card.  
"Show up, look as pretty as you do now, with a clean dress, of course, and when you get inside, ask for Rachel, Rachel Berry".

Deep in thought, Quinn surveyed the card, as if looking for the answers in this New York madness.

"Hey, this job-", Quinn attempted to say, but before she could inquire, the fringe and her smile had hastily marched up the crowded Manhattan street, leaving the former Lima resident to ponder the possibilities of a bold and exciting, new future.


End file.
